


Joyful Noise

by Sir_Thopas



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Genderfluid Character, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 07:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Thopas/pseuds/Sir_Thopas
Summary: God attempts to guide Aziraphale. Aziraphale needs to work on his listening skills.





	Joyful Noise

For the last couple of centuries, the Metatron had had received numerous complaints from the humans that God never spoke to them anymore. God insisted this wasn't true. She spoke all the time. It wasn't Her fault that they didn't pay attention. Not even Her emissaries, Her angels, listened to Her anymore. They were far too wrapped up in their war games to notice the signs.

Aziraphale was finally going to do it. He was going to buy a phonograph. Crowley had been badgering him about it since the 1890s. Aziraphale had insisted it wasn't the same as going to the symphony. Crowley, the _demon_, the _fiend_, had gone on and on about how nice it would be to sit in his favorite chair, a book in one hand and a mug of cocoa in the other, as Hamdel's _Messiah_ rose and fell like the waves of the ocean in the background until Aziraphale couldn't imagine living without one of those damnable machines. But, as far as Temptations went, Aziraphale supposed it was a harmless one and couldn't get too angry with the demon.

Speak of the devil. The salesman stopped mid-sentence to stare out the window. Aziraphale turned his head to look. There was Crowley, standing outside the store window, staring at him. No, not at him - the glasses made it so hard to tell sometimes - but at her own reflection.

She leaned forward, lipstick in hand, and retraced the blood red Cupid's bow that stained her mouth. It had been almost a century since he had seen Crowley present as female, not since that time her hoop skirt got stuck in a doorway and three strapping young lads had to pull her free. The new fashions suited her. Short skirts, bobbed hair, and plenty of rouge. Yes, the 1920s had been good to Crowley.

She put her lipstick back into her purse and lifted up her skirt to adjust her stocking, to the utter delight of the men in the store. Aziraphale almost missed the tinkling sound of Cole Porter blaring out from one of the phonographs between the hoots and whistles of the salesclerks.

_Birds do it... Bees do it... Even educated fleas do it... Let's do it, let's fall in love!_

Really? This is what humans call music these days? Aziraphale rolled his eyes and left the store. He knew Crowley was a demon, but did she have to Tempt the humans right in front of him? Crowley looked away from the window-turned-mirror and smiled at him, all innocence.

"Angel," she said, like she hadn't known he was in the shop, watching her little display. "Come see my baby."

"Your what?" He demanded, alarmed.

She ran over to one of those newfangled automobiles and draped herself over the hood. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"It's gauche."

"I know," she sighed dreamily. "Hop in. We can catch a movie. There's a new Clara Bow picture that I want to see."

"I detest movies. It's all brain-rotting filth. Especially anything with Clara Bow in it."

"Movie palaces are dens of sin and vice. Lots of souls ripe for corrupting... unless someone's there to stop me."

Aziraphale was already sitting in the passenger seat before she had even finished speaking. "Do you even know how to drive?" He asked.

It turns out, Crowley did, in the sense he was able to get from Point A to Point B without discorporating, but that didn't mean he could drive _well_. Nor did he bother to improve his driving skills over the course of the next few decades.

Aziraphale sat in the car, not sure what to do now that he had done the one thing he had sworn not to do. Crowley held the holy water lightly in his hands and Aziraphale wanted to snap at him, to tell him to be more careful, for God's sake. The tension in the car was thick and strange, and Aziraphale wondered at himself. If he could do this, what else could he do?

"I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go," Crowley said.

Avenues of action opened up before Aziraphale. Anywhere he wanted to go, with anyone he wanted. Time seemed to stop. He couldn't hear anything except Merrilee Rush singing through the speakers of some kid's transistor radio.

_If morning's echo says we've sinned... Well, it was what I wanted now... And if we're victims of the night... I won't be blinded by the light... Just call me angel of the morning, Angel... Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby..._

"You go too fast for me, Crowley," Aziraphale said and left.

* * *

Aziraphale climbed the steps onto the bus and collapsed into the seat beside Crowley. His mind was pulled in so many different directions, unsure of what was right and what was wrong. This wasn't how it was meant to be. He was an angel. There should be no confusion.

He looked at Crowley. The demon kept his eyes trained on the window, watching the scenery fly by. Had he made the right choice? Why couldn't God provide him with some assurance? Some little hint that he had not made a terrible mistake?

There was a girl sitting in the back, her head listing to one side, eyes closed, headphones on. Aziraphale could hear her music all the way where he was sitting. It was miracle she wasn't deaf.

_If you should ever leave me, though life would still go on, believe me... The world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me... God only knows what I'd be without you... God only knows... God only knows..._

Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley's hand. Crowley tore his gaze from the window to stare at him from behind those impenetrable glasses and wrapped his fingers around Aziraphale's.


End file.
